Myriad: a work by (CheeseDealer)

The day was pleasantly warm, and the freshly cut grass smelt delightful and strangely hypnotic, but the skies threatened treacherous rain. Dark vast storm clouds gathered to smite the sun, and a dark shadow fell over the peaceful lands below. The shadow covered the Pickles household, making Stew shiver. Something terrible was gong to happen, it seemed. He shrugged it off, and returned to welding.

Outside, amidst heaped dunes of the sand, Dyl innocent played with a red saliva-sodden plastic star. The game didn't seem to have any form, or any rules; it simply consisted of random arm movements and inane babble. His game was going, for the most part, completely unnoticed. But in the shadows, Spike was watching. And his eyes where gleaming…

In her kitchen, Dee was preparing lunch. The crisp lettuce leaves crunched in her hands as she ran them under the cold water of the tap. She waved to Dyl, and he smiled in response, before returning his attention to his plastic star. Sand had become stuck to its surface. It sifted and shone with every movement. Dee finished washing the salad, and transferred it into a polished glass bowl. Neither she nor Dyl noticed the crouched Spike walking slowly forward through the grass, or if they did, they thought nothing ill of it.

Spike bared his yellowed teeth, and offered a throaty growl. He was transfixed by Dyl as he played. Dyl was an object of fear; he was a terrible danger to Spike and to the people he loved. Somewhere inside Spike's mind an image formed, an image of a dark shadow taking away the ones he loved. Spike wouldn't allow that to happen, he wouldn't let anyone take Tommy away from him. With a roar of anger, a roar that signified despondence and resentment, he leapt, like Athena springing from the forehead of Zeus. His teeth and claws descended towards the unprotected child before him; his eyes shone with the intensity of a thousand suns; and with a sick stream of distorted sound, his teeth sliced into the nothingness where Dyl had just been sat. Spike was greeted with a sharp slap to his skull, and upon looking up, he saw a red faced Stew. His master began talking loudly in tongues that Spike could not understand, although Spike recognised certain commands and requests in his slew of talk. The dog then turned tail and fled back into the shadows of the garden's edge, to nurse his cranium. He would have his day, though. Dyl would not go unpunished…